91 of 1293

by Alissa King

The Tragedy

I choked my muse today.
She came at me too fast around a corner
and I thought she was going for my head, but
I think she was putting something in there
not taking something out.
I strangled her dead,
my fingers closing tight around her throat
till the face went blue and the hands
fluttering around like butterflies went limp.
And only then did I notice her loveliness:
The features sharpened by duress;
those final gasps reverberated
down my core and filled me with
abortive music. She was a mermaid
swimming away from me, her scales
leaving a shimmering path that grew quickly
too thin to follow.

She really shouldn't have come at me like that, though
all crazy bright and fired up
like a freak, or a strung out mugger.

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Poetry: Dark poems

by Alissa King

Poetry: Dark poems

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